


Accepting the Master

by ausmac



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-24
Updated: 2016-08-24
Packaged: 2018-08-10 18:33:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7856482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ausmac/pseuds/ausmac
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When his Master is kidnapped as slave on a somewhat primitive world, Obi-Wan must pretend to be something rather closer than friends to get him free.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Accepting the Master

_Wake up.  He had to wake up.  There was something urgent, something wrong.  Some reason to be –_

Awake.  Obi-Wan snapped upright in the seat, shook his head to clear the last fog from his mind and looked about. 

He was in the cabin of the two-man Jedi courier.  The systems were operating smoothly, auto-pilot set, computerised monitors clicking and flickering as the ship drove through space.  Everything was normal. 

Except he shouldn’t be there.  He should be back on Karsite.  He should be with Qui-Gon.  And he knew with absolute and immediate certainty that Qui-Gon was not aboard the ship with him. 

As he began checking the inflight recordings he tried to remember … 

 

Karsite was a harsh world, mostly rocky, grassed tundra where, for generations past count, the Kars had wandered as great, travelling tribes, carrying their families and homes on the backs of the huge slow-moving Toomba creatures.  They would travel from water source to water source with their families, homes and herds.  They warred often, over land and goods and slaves and simple matters of honour and pride.  In spite of that they had developed a strong and vibrant culture. Eventually certain places became neutral meeting spots which turned into towns and then cities. 

Through the generations these places became holy – no wars could take place around them though many of the Kars still maintained their roving life.  Science and art grew up in the holy Meets, as they were called.  

The Great Meet, what passed for a planetary capital on Karsite, was the centre of their culture, their learning and their single starport.  The Council of Tribes  had been in negotiation with the Republic for some years – not every family or every part of Karsite culture wished to join the Republic and there was frequent dissent.  

The central cause of the dissent was the issue of slavery.  Slavetaking was an established and revered part of their culture.  The capture and keeping of people from other tribes had been their major way of ensuring that their bloodlines were kept vibrant, to control inbreeding.  Much of it in modern times was more a formalised ceremony to cover matings between members of different tribes, but actual slave taking still occurred from time to time.  The Republic, however, rigid in its vision of the Law,  insisted on the abolishment of slavery as a condition of entry.  It had become the central cause of something approaching civil war on this exotic, fascinating world. 

The Kars respected strength and power, so the Chancellor had decided to send two Jedi to discover whether any breakthrough could be made in the seemingly hopeless tangle of Karsite politics and religion.  The Jedi Council had chosen Qui-Gon Jinn as the best Master for the job: his mixture of age, experience and renown as a warrior would serve him well among the warlike Kars. 

Obi-Wan had been fascinated from the moment of their arrival on Karsite.  As they exited the sealed environment of the starport the first thing that struck his senses was the air.  It was dry, almost always in motion from the great air movement across the Tundra.  And it was rich with scents – the warm spices used in their foods, the dry, hot smell of the earth, the exotic perfumes worn by both men and women.  It was a sensuous, fascinating place, primitive and magnetic. 

As his Master had arranged for transport to the Council Meethouse, he’d stood with his arms tucked into his sleeves, head up, eyes closed, taking in the world through his skin and nose and those internal senses that linked him to the Force.  He was so caught up in the exploration that Qui-Gon’s light touch on his arm make him jump. 

“Daydreaming, Padawan?”  Qui-Gon’s tone was mildly amused and Obi-Wan smiled. 

“Not exactly, Master.  This is a fascinating place.  It’s so….” 

“Vibrant?  Yes, I can sense it also.  The less civilized a world, the more alive it often seems to be.  Sometimes I suspect the Force is diluted when technology replaces the living and the organic.” 

“As on Coruscant?”  Obi-Wan asked, and Qui-Gon nodded slowly. 

“Yes.  I think the Order was mistaken in having our Temple there.  It should be on a world more intimately in touch with the living Force.” 

As Qui-Gon spoke, Obi-Wan watched a group of locals walking down the dusty street towards them.  The Karsites were tall; on average as tall as Qui-Gon, and the three Karsite men heading their way were typical of the race.  Dressed in rainbow-bright loose trousers tucked into soft boots, long sleeved-multi-coloured shirts and vests covered by long capes, they were like moving works of art.  Their features were strong and uniformly handsome and they all wore their long hair in multiple small braids decorated with ties and beads, had gold rings in their ears, bracelets around their arms and long, seriously dangerous swords next to more mundane blasters, strapped to their hips. 

As Qui-Gon went to step forward toward an approaching ground vehicle the first of the men deliberately veered toward him and bumped into him.  A second man literally shoved Obi-Wan aside. 

“Watch out, old man, you might get hurt if you walk in front of a warrior.”  The tall man sneered down at the Jedi Master and gestured to Obi-Wan.  “What’s this then – the runt of the litter? 

All three of the Karsites laughed and Obi-Wan pushed down any annoyance, expecting Qui-Gon to face the rudeness with typical sangfroid.  Instead, he gasped, shocked as his Master spun around, grabbed the speaker’s clothing at chest height, lifted him off his feet and slammed him back  into the wall. 

The big male struggled but Qui-Gon held him up effortlessly, gesturing with one hand to his companions. 

 “If they move, warrior, my runt of an assistant here will cut out your heart out and feed it to the Reckits – won’t you, Obi-Wan?” 

“Ah, absolutely.”  _What’s a Reckit, and do I really want to know_? 

The man snarled at his friends and they stopped, then looked down into Qui-Gons calm features.  “You’re stronger than you look, old man.  Are you the offworld Wizard we’ve been hearing about?” 

Qui-Gon let him drop, then straightened his sleeves. “I am. You might do well to remember  in future, warrior, that looks can be deceptive.”  Without another word he turned and headed for the transport, followed by his bemused Padawan. 

“Master, what in the name of the Force was that about?” 

After giving the driver instructions, Qui-Gon settled back and explained.  “This is a warrior society.  If we show weakness we won’t keep their respect, and we can’t negotiate from a position of weakness.  I’m sorry about the ‘runt” remark, but anyone on this world under two metres is considered short.  Even most of their women are taller than you, Padawan.” 

“Hmmph.”  He’d always been a tad sensitive about his height.  “Maybe you should have brought someone…taller…with you then.” 

“Don’t worry, Obi-Wan, I’m sure you’ll manage just fine.” 

_I love the man but sometimes that superior “I-know-what’s-’best attitude gets up my nostrils.  One day, just once, I’d like to see my self-assured Jedi Master humbled…just a little bit…_

They had arrived at the enormous domed Place of Meeting and Obi-Wan had gawked like a tourist as they’d been led inside by one of the ceremonial guards.  It was beautiful in a brash and alien way; the building seemed to float, held up by pillars, the walls made of great bright curtains that flowed in the movement of air.  Incense came from brass braziers, water tumbled into fountains, plants spilled from pots, amazingly ornate tapestries and carpets covered every surface.  He felt like he was walking through a three-dimensional work of art. 

The Tribal Council was an astonishing sight.  The bright, colourful room was full of equally bright men and women who stormed at each other, hurled insults (and the occasional object), issued challenges and behaved in a manner his more civilized mind found very confusing.  He even found cause to blush as a couple indulged in some fairly active fondling in a corner of the room.  Did these people have no control? 

Standing with Qui-Gon as they waited for a break in the action, he sensed his Master’s amusement. “This is a vibrant, emotional culture.  Their ways are not ours and we should try not to judge them.” 

“But how,” Obi-Wan asked softly, “can they possibly get anything done?” 

“They seem to manage.  This is their equivalent of the Question session of our own Senate.  Most of them will withdraw soon and the Executive will be left to carry on the main business.” 

It proved to be so.  After a time a gong was rung and the Speaker stood to quiet the rowdy representatives.  “The time for debate has finished.  Council members will leave formalised questions with the Executive and adjourn till the next meeting.  The Blessings of the Allmother upon you.” 

The representatives bowed, touched their foreheads and streamed out of the room past the two silent Jedi.  Four men and one woman were left behind as the pair of ornate wooden doors were closed behind them. 

One of the men stood and walked across the room towards them.  He moved with the fluid grace of a predator – or a warrior.  Tall of course, powerfully built, in the prime of his years with black hair down to his waist that was braided in at least a dozen tails, he was astonishingly handsome.  He smiled at the Jedi, flashing white teeth, his green eyes wide and intelligent. 

“Welcome to Karsite.  I am K’beth, Leader of the Hoorite Tribe.  You must be Jedis Jinn and Kenobi?” 

They both bowed and Qui-Gon spoke.  “Yes, thank you for the opportunity to watch your council in action.  Was it a typical meeting?” 

K’beth led across the room to the table.  “Somewhat more emotional than most.  The issue of the Republic’s requirements for entry are raising a lot of heat.  Allow me to introduce you to my fellow leaders.” 

They’d spent the rest of the day familiarising themselves with the customs and problems of Karsite before being shown to their quarters.  A dinner was to be held that evening in their honour and they had both been given robes as gifts to welcome them.  After washing the dust of the day away, Obi-Wan had dressed in his gift and stood to study the effect in a mirror. 

He kept his own boots, tucked the blue and gold silk trousers into the top of them.  A black leather belt linked and buckled in gold fitted around his hips and the generously sleeved shirt that tucked under it was dyed in swirls of red, blue and gold, tied at the wrists with gold ribbons.  It was topped by a black vest embroidered in gold thread, tied at the front with two gold tassels.  The effect was….interesting _.  I look like something from an old tale.  All I need now is a big silver sword and a steed to ride off into the desert….._

He looked up as he sensed his Master’s presence, saw the familiar eyes looking at his reflection and sensed something….strange.  Qui-Gon moved behind him, wearing his own new clothing, and stared at the reflected image.  “You look very fine, Padawan.  Quite attractive, in fact.” 

Obi-Wan blinked in mild astonishment.  Attractive had not been a word frequently uttered by his reserved Master. 

“Thank you.  May I say you look fairly spectacular also.” 

Qui-Gon’s robes were less ornate but suited him to perfection.  The outer robe was silk in a colour much like dark wine, trimmed in silver.  The inner robes were slightly darker, almost purple, with a high collar, tied at the throat by two silver tassels, belted in silver and white.  The material gleamed in the dull light, flowed like water with each movement.  The aroma of Scentwood and musk drifted across Obi-Wan’s senses and he had the strangest desire to reach out and run a hand over the soft fabric that lay across his Master’s chest… 

“This world does have its effect, doesn’t it?”  Qui-Gon’s voice was soft and Obi-Wan stood fixed by the eyes reflected in the glass.  For a moment it felt as if they were moving together and then – 

There was a bang at the door and both men jumped.  The odd frozen moment passed and they left their rooms to accompany their guide to the evening’s entertainment. 

***

 

Obi-Wan had enjoyed the flamboyant, noisy banquet -  what he could remember of it.  His hosts had insisted he eat until he felt bloated and drink glass after glass of their rich, spiced wine.  He’d watched his Master chatting with various members of the Tribal Council, holding a single glass of wine, waving away refills with his usual calm courtesy.  How does he do it, Obi-Wan wondered hazily, trying to think around the buzz of the wine and the loud music and the rich, musky smells of the night.  He always looks so controlled, so much in command of himself, so….wonderful…..  And here I am, nearly drunk…. 

And that the last thing he clearly remembered.  Before waking up aboard the courier ship heading away into space. 

There were some vague memories of walking back to their rooms, laughing much too loudly, falling onto something flat and soft…but nothing else.  It took very little time to confirm that his ship was within minutes of going to hyperspace and after resetting the controls he turned it around and headed back to Karsite.  At the same time he sent off a message to Coruscant informing them of events and promising an update as soon as he located Qui-Gon.  He ignored the jumping fear in his belly, pushing it down to concentrate on what he need to do. 

The news when he finally reached Karsite was not good.  Was, in fact, outrageously bad.  He’d headed straight for the Council chambers on his arrival and K’beth had hit with the facts. 

“I’m not quite sure how it came about,” he’d told Obi-Wan as he ushered the younger man into his office, “but it seems your friend agreed to visit with one of our more radical Chiefs, Telkar.  Telkar’s people are strongly traditionalist and he is the leader of the faction fighting against entry to the Republic.  They follow the old ways and Telkar is no fool.  He has found a way, I believe, that he thinks will destroy our chances of joining. He has taken Qui-Gon as a Shethran.” 

“A what?” Obi-Wan asked in growing concern. 

The other man sighed.  “It’s a very traditionalist form of slave.  You see, we have Force sensitives on Karsite, as most worlds do.  They have always been considered Wizards, users of magic, and because of their rarity they are highly prized.  Telkar has announced his intent to claim Qui-Gon as an unmarked male Shethran, to keep him for breeding.” 

“Breeding!”  It came out as a highly shocked  sound very close to a shout.  “Are you mad! Qui-Gon Jinn is a Jedi Master, the Council will not sit still for this!” 

“Young man, your Council has no say here.  We are independent people and our laws apply to anyone, including offworld visitors.  Unless your Republic and your Council come in force with battleships and warriors, you cannot take him back by force.  As much as I am displeased with the way this has been handled, I am forced to follow the law.  I am pledged to it, in fact.  That is why we are trying to change it.” 

Obi-Wan stalked back and forth across the plush carpeting like a caged animal.  “This is…this insane!  I will not leave without Qui-Gon!  Sir, you must help me.” 

K’beth tapped his desk thoughtfully.  “I cannot officially aid you, but perhaps we can do this in a roundabout way.  If I can get you into Telkar's camp, you might be able to free Qui-Gon.”  He considered the idea, his dark eyes narrowed.  “There is a young woman who might be able to help you.  She’s something of a young scoundrel, went offworld to make her fortune, I know she’s in port at the moment, but she has ways and means that I do not.” He focused on Obi-Wan’s face, studied him top to bottom and the young Jedi felt oddly uncomfortable.  “But be aware,  Jedi – you are also unmarked and risked being claimed as well.  Though you are somewhat short as our tastes run, some of us might find that…appealing.”  And Obi-Wan sensed the sudden flash of interest, the small flaring of desire. 

_Great, just great.  My Master is being held captive as some sort of stud and now this one is starting to line me up as well.  We need to get off this planet fairly quickly…._

A little later K’beth introduced him to Shevra Morain.  Slightly older than him, Obi-Wan guessed, tall, of course, with long golden brown hair braided and tied up on top of her head and attractive, strong features, she wore trousers, boots, shirt and vest instead of the flamboyant clothing of her people.  She looked down at Obi-Wan with amused interest. 

“So, little one, they tell me you’re a Jedi, and need some help to rescue a Shethran from that arrogant lump Telkar.  That might be worth the trouble, just to get up a boot up that big self-certain arse.  His, that is, not yours – I wouldn’t kick yours if it were offered.” 

He blinked, blushed, and she laughed and thumped him on the arm.  “Good, there’s blood under that oh-so-controlled Jedi exterior.  Always wondered about you people.  I’ve watched you Jedi at the starports, wafting through the crowds, projecting this “don’t-touch-me” air.  Good to see one getting worked up about something to do with the flesh, if you’ll forgive the term.” 

He smiled, finally, sensing her basic good nature.  “I’ll try to remember that when I’m tempted to do any, ah, wafting.  Can you help me find Qui-Gon and get us both off this overwhelming planet of yours in one piece?” 

She shrugged, tucked her hands in her pants pockets.  “Do my best. For a price, of course.  My boy, I am a businesswoman, wages to meet, a ship to maintain.” 

“I’m sure the Jedi coffers can manage your fee, ma’am.” 

“Ma’am.  I like that.  Alright, Jedi, let’s go find your Master.” 

***

 

Telkar’s tribe was well away from the city, situated at the base of a range of hills where water flowed into a tree-ringed lake.  Spread out around the lake was a mass of colourful tents. Smoke drifted in the air, the big Toomba snorted and growled in their fenced paddock and the people worked in around the campsite in a blaze of colour and activity. 

Shevra had hired them riding beasts for a less intimidating arrival, though it was obvious they were expected.  During the ride she had explained the system of slave-taking to him, explained how the Karsite tended to marry young to avoid possible Taking, how married couples wore marriage marks on their cheeks to show their situation.  It was forbidden to mark outside the marriage bond and harsh penalties were issued to those who did.  

“I just don’t understand,” he’s said, as he’d swayed on top of the ambling desert mount, “how they are managing to keep him against his will.  Qui-Gon is a very powerful Jedi, he could break chains, twist minds…” 

“Not if he’s dosed up with Kerra Berry juice.  It’s often been used on unwilling slaves, makes them docile, calms them until they get accustomed to their new home.  I’d lay money that’s what Telkar is using, especially if your friend is as strong as you say.” 

The idea of his Master being doped into compliance didn’t make Obi-Wan at all happy, but at least it meant he was probably unharmed. As they rode into the camp a pair of armed guards met them at the gate and escorted them to a large central tent topped by banners proclaiming it the home of Telkar, Tribe leader. 

It was cool inside, lit by braziers, hung with tapestries and furnished with masses of plump cushions.  Obi-Wan looked about, fascinated. 

“This is so primitive.  They don’t even seem to have power.” 

“Don’t be misled,” Shevra said, sinking into one cushion and taking a piece of fruit from a brass stand.  “They have everything they need to live comfortably, it just isn’t flaunted.  And there will be blasters riding under those robes as well.  And if you’re thinking of trying a little Jedi mind magic, think again.  Telkar will have his own Wizard watching and he’ll take it unkindly if you try.” 

He had been considering that and ground his teeth together in annoyance.  Before he could start trying to come up with Plan B the tent flap opened and the Chief entered, followed by a portly middle-aged man who watched Obi-Wan with considerable interest.  The Padawan sensed the flow of the Force and raised his  mental shields with a thump.  He bowed to the Chief and received a nod of the head in response. 

“You shouldn’t have come here, wizard.  It will do you no good.  I have no intention of releasing him to you.  I’ve claimed him within my rights.  All you do is put yourself in danger of meeting the same fate.” 

Obi-Wan looked up into the dark, intensely handsome features and tucked his hands together, concentrating on his centre of calm.  “My Lord, you would not have shoved me into my ship and sent me away if you’d intended that.  You want to cripple these negotiations and thought that sending me away to proclaim my ….Qui-Gon’s …capture would achieve that.  If I may so, “he finished staring up into the intense gaze, “you underestimate my persistence.  I will not leave him here and neither of us will stay.  You may not keep a Jedi captive.” 

Telkar turned and satin a cushion, poured himself a glass of wine and cast a sideways glance at Shevra.  “You’ve involved yourself in this, I see, Shevragirl.  Can’t stay away from me, it seems.” 

“Arrogant bastard.”  She poured herself a cup and saluted him.  “Hope you get what’s coming to you.” 

He smiled, returned her salute and sipped his wine, staring at her over the rim of the cup.  “I will, one day.  When you let go of this foolish space wandering and come to my bed as you should.” 

She raised the cup, turned it upside down and poured the wine onto the floor.  “This wine is poor.  Get yourself some offplanet vintages, I’ll gladly bring them in for you.  And if the idea ever enters that primitive mind of yours to try and grab me and put a collar on my throat, think again.” 

Obi-Wan cleared his throat.  “I’m sorry, I don’t  wish to interrupt local courtship rituals, but I have a problem here!” 

The man and woman glared at each other for a few more seconds, then Shevra looked away and Telkar turned his gaze up at Obi-Wan. 

“You had best face facts, young one.  He’s my slave, and there the matter ends.” 

Obi-Wan fumed in spite of his hard-held controls.  "But you can't keep Qui-Gon as a slave!”

  
"Why not?  I have plans for him as a breeder.  He's a wizard, after all, a number of the women of my Tribe have expressed interest in mating with him to make wizard children.  Such children would be a great coup for my tribe."  
  
"But...but..." Obi-Wan groped for reason while the Chieftain continued.  
  
"Of course, there has been some difficulty.  Those that have tried have been unable to arouse him for some reason."  
  
_Oh well done Master_ , Obi-Wan thought with relief, _even drugged you can still use some body control_.  Out loud he said the first idea that came into his head.  "Of course not.  That's because....he's already....mated."  
  
The Chief's eyebrows rose in query.  "To who?"  
  
"Ah...to me!"  Obi-Wan blinked and flushed, amazed at his glib brain, which seemed to be functioning in spite of himself.   "Yes, we're mated. Have been for some months."  
  
The Chief looked at him with suspicion.  "That seems very convenient.  But it may be so, since you are both wizards and travelling together.  But you will have to prove it."  
  
"Prove it?  Obi-Wan's response came out as an alarmed squeak.  
  
"Yes, of course.  Our laws are quite clear on this point.  We cannot keep one of a mated pair as a slave.  But I will need to see you together, behaving as a mated pair, before I will believe it, since you are not of our people."  
  
_Oh sweet Force, what have I gotten myself into now....!!_  
  


***

 

Telkar and his Force Wizard had left Shevra and Obi-Wan alone after Obi-Wan’s astonishing claim but he was given little time to think.  A few minutes later the ten flap was opened again and Qui-Gon was ushered into the room by a guard, who closed the flap and left. 

Obi-Wan was struck speechless by the sight of him.  It was his Master well enough, but never as he’d ever seen him before – 

His hair was held back by clips and ties, the long top and side sections braided, the braids tied of by silver rings that tinkled like small bells when he moved.  Instead of his normal brown robe he wore a thigh-length wide-sleeved robe dyed in rippling rainbow patterns, tied together at chest height with a single tie.  His leggings had been replaced by red silk trousers tucked into suede half-boots.  And, aside from the smooth gold collar around his neck, he wore nothing else. 

But the item that immediately drew Obi-Wan’s attention was a slim gold chain that hung over the top of the red trousers and disappeared inside them. 

“What,” Obi-Wan said, pointing, “is that?” 

“That’s a chain,” Shevra answered with a smile. 

He turned to her, mouth quirked wide with sarcasm.  “Thank you.  I would never have known.  I mean, why is it…there!” 

She shrugged.  “I don’t know.  Take a look if you’re curious.” 

Obi-Wan felt his face flushing scarlet.  “I think not.”  He stepped forward and stared up into the sleepy blue gaze.  “Qui-Gon – Master – can you hear me?” 

The eyes blinked as Qui-Gon focused on him.  “Obi-Wan – you here?” 

“Yes, Master.  I’m here to rescue you.”  For some reason, that sounded banal.  “Um, I’m here to take you home.” 

Qui-Gon nodded in sleepy, almost bovine laziness.  “That’s nice.”  He looked as if were ready to drop off to sleep where he stood. 

Obi-Wan looked back at Shevra.  “I presume this is the result of the drug you mentioned?” 

“Oh yes, its an amazing sedative, is Kerra Berry Juice.  Turns even the most violent or aggressive person into a quiet little flower.  And its totally non-addictive.  Within a day of its removal from his diet he’ll be back to normal and quite unaffected.” 

“Wonderful.”  The enormity of what lay before him made him shiver with nervousness.  “How in the name of all the Dark Side am I supposed to convince anyone that we’re mated?” 

She grinned at his discomfort.  “The usual way.  Do for each other what mates do.  Light up the old sex drive and bonk body parts together.” 

He grinned at her, embarrassed and amused.  “Jedi don’t bonk!” 

“Why am I not surprised?  But if you have any hope of getting him away from Telkar then you have to do some serious and enthusiastic bonking – and you have to make that arrogant cynic believe you enjoy each other’s bodies.  I can tell you now that simply arousing him with oral sex will not work.  A good mouth massage will get anyone excited, mate or no.” 

_How many times can a person blush before they wear out the process?_   He’d never heard sex discussed with such a blatant lack of modesty _.  Come, come, Padawan.  Use your intelligence.  How can we do this convincingly!  Stop being a prude!!_

He was still considering the idea with a mixture of embarrassment and surprising excitement when Telkar returned.  “Very well, wizard,” the big man said, dropping onto a cushion, “convince me of this supposed bond of yours.” 

Shevra withdrew with a smile and a salute and Obi-Wan turned back to Qui-Gon as his toes tried to curl themselves up into his stomach.  What in the name of the Force was he supposed to do…? 

The Force. 

An outrageous idea slid into his brain, pushing through the discomfort.  Could he do it?  Did he have the delicacy, the control?  Well, the only way to find out was to try.  He turned to the Chieftain and bowed. 

“Lord Telkar – would you believe he is my mate if I could arose him without even touching him?” 

The other man nodded.  “Yes, that would certainly convince me.” 

Taking a deep breath, Obi-Wan went to stand in front of Qui-Gon just out of arm reach.  “Gui-Gon…?

His Master focused on his face once more.  “Obi-Wan…you here?” 

Obi-Wan sighed.  “Yes.  I need –“  No, it was useless to try and explain and asking permission was a waste of time.  Consigning his fate to the Force, he reached out undid the tie of Qui-Gon’s pants.  The silken material slid over the slender hips and pooled around his feet. 

And Obi-Wan gaped, his mouth dropping open in shocked surprise.  So that’s where the chain went… 

 His Master was wearing no smallclothes and his penis hung in a relaxed droop against his thigh.  The chain ran down to a smooth golden ring.  The ring was attached to the very end of his penis. 

Obi-Wan pointed to it with one shaking finger.  “Does that…does that…hurt him?” 

The Chieftain snorted.  “Of course not.  Do you think we would hurt a valuable Shethran?” 

Obi-Wan looked back at it with fascinated horror.  Closer examination showed that the ring slid under the foreskin and out through the slit at the end of the penis.  And then he found that the sight of that gleaming ring suspended from his Master’s most vulnerable flesh, with its attached chain, was the most erotic thing he’d ever seen and his own cock was twitching in sympathy – and arousal. 

_Focus.  FOCUS!  Stop that!_   He tried to quell his body’s unanticipated reaction.  _Not now, I have to concentrate!_   But his body had its own ideas and he continued to swell as he imagined touching that warm golden ring and watching it move on his palm and….. He ground his teeth together, then bit his lip.  Sith!  He took hold of the Force and reached out along the Master/Padawn link, seeking Qui-Gon’s mind.  There was the blurred sense of presence, a warm, drifting awareness.  Keeping the link alive, he drew forth a slim spear of power and directed it as his Master’s body.  Gently, so gently, he stroked it down the broad chest. 

He couldn’t feel that stroke, of course – the Force had no nerve ends to relay sensation.  But he could feel Qui-Gon’s response through the link.  It came to him as the feel of a broad, warm caress and Qui-Gon arched into it, almost purring.  He knew he Master recognised his touch, his Force signature and was reacting to it on a basic level, a level beyond thought. 

He narrowed his Force touch, let it drift down until it reach between Qui-Gon’s thighs and gathered the big penis in a solid hold.  Then, alternately pulling and pushing as if he were manipulating weights, Obi-Wan stroked Qui-Gon with a an intimate, invisible hand. 

Qui-Gon gasped, arched his back, hands reaching out as if to grasp an invisible lover.  His cock swelled and arched upwards, arousal sparking through his body and along the link to Obi-Wan, who moaned at the sudden rush of projected heat and need.  

It felt – so – good – and he didn’t know who thought that, who felt it, both, Qui-Gon, him, he didn’t know.  He watched the eyes above him striving for focus, felt the first hint of rebellion as his Master tried to quell his body’s response. 

_No…Master…don’t fight me….have to do this…to escape…its me, Obi-Wan…let me….let me…do this…to you…._

_…Obi-Wan…??_   Acceptance, unexpected, unbelievable acceptance from somewhere he’d never imaged.  Qui-Gon opened himself to him in a rush of warm trust and he tightened his Force grip and heard the explosive – Yes ! – and reached out with one hand, let it hover just beyond the warmth and swollen pressure of that tight skin as Qui-Gon orgasmed into his palm. 

***

 

Obi-Wan sensed the Karsite would have kept them both in spite of that display had his intention to keep Qui-Gon been serious.  Perhaps he felt he’d made his point, shown his world and the Republic that the Kars were a separate people with special beliefs that a wider Law shouldn’t be allowed to swallow. 

Whatever his reason, he’d let Qui-Gon go, taken the collar from his throat with his own hands and handed it to Obi-Wan, releasing  him into Obi-Wan’s care.  He’d offered a final word as Shevra had taken them both away. 

“I’d mark him if I were you,” he’d said, smiling up into Obi-Wan’s frozen features.  “not that he hasn’t already marked you, by the look of it. “ 

He’d looked down at his hand as they ridden away, the clean and empty palm that somehow still tingled with a sense of salty heat, with the warm, slick feel of Qui-Gon’s seed.  He knew he should be repulsed, or at least uncomfortable.  But he felt neither.  There was a constant hungry tang at the back of his tongue, an itch at the bottom of his throat, an ache that wasn’t purely physical.  It took him a while to recognise it as passion. 

They were back aboard the courier and heading home before Qui-Gon was fully aware and out from under the effects of the drug.  Except for some brief conversation between them, when Obi-Wan filled him in on the political ramifications (which were negligible, as no-one had been hurt) they hardly spoke at all. 

There didn’t seem to be any point from which Obi-Wan could easily launch a conversation.  I’m sorry, Master, I had to make you come so we could….no, that wasn’t it.  I used the Force, Master, to arouse you and….. That was bad..  Well, at least we didn’t have to fuck…… Oh yes, right, THAT would work! 

So he just sat hunched in the left seat, inches away from someone as seemingly closed and controlled as a rock face who made no eye contact, laid no blame, hardly spoke beyond single words exchanged out of necessity.  A stranger in the body of the man he realised he loved much more than he should, needed much more than was good for his mind and soul.  And who he had probably driven away because he hadn’t been smart enough to come up with some other way of saving him.  Some way  that didn’t involve total humiliation and ruin for both of them. 

Two days passed.  Two miserable, uncomfortable days.  He grew to wish his Master would rant at him, throw things, challenge him to a duel, throw him off the balcony, whip him…  Anything but that cool, efficient stranger with Qui-Gon’s face. 

He took to avoiding him, finally, being somewhere else.  They shared quarters, each having their own bedroom with a common parlour and he made sure he was always in late, well after Qui-Gon retired, so that they wouldn’t meet.  Even that became too much and he realised, finally, in the depths of misery, that it couldn’t go on.  

He sat waiting after dinner on the third night, striving for calm and finding only loneliness.  When Qui-Gon arrived back from a meeting he seemed almost surprised to find his apprentice sitting by the window.  Just sitting, watching the door, waiting.  He stood inside the door for a moment, went to turn towards his own room and Obi-Wan spoke softly. 

“Master.  I need…to talk to you.” 

Qui-Gon stopped and turned, tucking his hands into his sleeves.  “Yes, Obi-Wan?” 

“Master….”  Obi-Wan looked down at the floor, studying the muted pattern of the carpet.  “It is…obvious to me that I am no longer suited to be your Padawan.  I have failed you.  I will understand if you wish end my training with you.” 

It was the most terrible thing he imagined he would ever have to say.  He waited, hoping, dreading.  The worst came. 

“If that is your wish, Obi-Wan.” 

He looked up, eyes blurred by unshed tears and stood, stumbling a little in his haste as the pain knifed into his heart.   Before Qui-Gon could say another word Obi-Wan brushed past him and almost ran from the room.  

Anywhere, he just had to get away.  He moved blindly, ended up facing a door he didn’t know, pushed it open, stumbled into the dark.  A storeroom of some kind, full of cubical shapes that he banged into until he dropped to the floor and sobbed, hugging his aching chest, wishing he were dead. 

The door opened and a figure was outlined by the light.  “Obi-Wan…?” 

He pulled back into the dark, gasping for breath.  “Don’t….just leave me…..” 

Qui-Gon moved forward, leaving the room in darkness, and knelt down in front of Obi-Wan.  “We’ve both made a mess of this, haven’t we?  You with your foolish guilt, me with my equally foolish pride.  Can you forgive me?” 

Oh yes, anything to hear that warmth again.  “Can you forgive me?” 

“Nothing to forgive, Padawan.  You did what was needed to help me.  I’m just not accustomed to being helpless.  It didn’t – sit well – with me.” 

“I thought, it was, the other thing…..you know,” Obi-Wan said, haltingly, and he heard the older man laugh. 

“The other thing?  Oh, the sex part.  No, that didn’t bother me so much.  In fact, I think I can safely say it didn’t bother me at all.” 

And suddenly, with a dizzy sense of shock, Obi-Wan realised that Qui-Gon wanted him.  Wanted to touch him.  Wanted to hold him.  His Master didn’t move but Obi-Wan felt a warm hand stoke over his head, down his face, inside his tunic….. 

It was what he’d done to Qui-Gon on Karsite.  As that intangible something stroked lower, over his stomach and down and - oh..but Qui-Gon did it so much better – he gasped as the touch was replaced by hand behind his head, a mouth brushing over his cheek, lips and tongue and the wonderful rough feel of beard on his flushed skin. 

The heat boiled up out of him and he pushed himself up, grabbed Qui-Gon and pushed him down onto the floor and they rolled together – and then they were both on their feet as Qui-Gon pulled him upright and they staggered backwards into the wall.  He was standing pressed up against his Master, panting a little and he felt the hard chest rumble. 

“Obi-Wan…I’m too old for rolling around on the floor.  Come back to bed.” 

He shook in blissful excitement _.  He wants me.  Wants to…go to bed with me.  Wants to_ …  and knowing even as he thought those things that Qui-Gon was reading him.  Hell, he was probably broadcasting loud enough to excite Yoda! 

“Don’t rationalise it, Padawan.”  Qui-Gon wrapped one arm around him to pull him forward and took his  ponytail with his other hand,  pulled his head back so that he could nuzzle Obi-Wan’s throat.  “After all, according to Karsite law,” he whispered, his voice moist on Obi-Wan’s shivering skin, “I belong to you.  But then, I have for a very long time.” 

Obi-Wan almost fell over as sensation overloaded his mind.  He practically dragged Qui-Gon back to their quarters and shut and locked the door with a slam of Force energy.  He realised that Qui-Gon was letting him control the pace, allowing his Padawn to manhandle him across the room, through the door and onto the big bed without a word.  Clothes dropped behind them and as they hit the mattress together Qui-Gon dimmed the lights with a flick of his own power.  As Obi-Wan slid next to him Qui-Gon took his hand and moved it down to his groin and Obi-Wan shouted in surprise at the feel of the smooth ring under his hand. 

“I left it on.  It’s an interesting sensation.  I wanted to see what it would feel like inside your mouth.”  He chuckled as Obi-Wan bucked in explosive arousal.  “Now, my Master,  let’s see what other parts of my body you can reach.” 

They spent the rest of the night doing just that.


End file.
